


FREAK VS Loki Silvertongue

by Hawa_DL



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Harry Potter with no name in particular, M/M, OOC Harry Potter, OOC Tony Stark, Porn with too much plot, Squick Factor: A Variety of Bodily Fluids, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 02:16:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4648458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hawa_DL/pseuds/Hawa_DL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of oneshots detailing interactions between a demigod and a... well, a freak.</p><p> </p><p>In Part I:</p><p>Fly, meet trap.</p><p>Or,</p><p>That time Loki was thoroughly distracted from taking over the world, courtesy of a certain freak going by the name Jim Evans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FREAK VS Loki Silvertongue

### Loki

Loki was caught slightly off-guard by the man's attentions, but only slightly.

He _did_ cut an attractive figure after all.

He took a moment to decide whether he had the time to… _entertain_ the mortal. The man was nothing special really, though bodies so finely toned as his were much less common here than on Asgard. His hair was indisputably his most appealing feature: long as a woman's, wavy and wild, and blacker than ink. Honestly, it was practically hazardous, just begging as it was to be pulled.

Recalling that Selvig would be hours yet setting up his equipment, Loki smirked at the man and nodded his head toward the door. The mortal grinned, welcoming and flirtatious, though his eyes flashed in a predatory light, crowing his triumph. Loki's smirk widened, a baring of teeth. He didn't even look at the barrista as he came to Loki's end of the counter, merely taking his coffee from him before meeting the other man at the door.

 _So, the little mortal thinks he's in power here, does he? How…_ cute.

The bell hanging on the door jingled, and they entered the street together.

“It's going to be a great night,” the man said, looking at the setting sun. His voice was low and husky; not because he was trying to be attractive, but just because it was.

Loki hummed in agreement. “That it is.”

And they shared a mischievous grin at that because it was so hilariously obvious that neither of them was talking about the weather.

“So…?”

“My name is Loki,” he answered, smiling.

“Loki,” the man said slowly, testing the name on his tongue. “Nice to meet you. Call me Evans.”

“And you, Mr. Evans.”

“So, which hotel are you staying in, Loki?” asked Evans.

“Now, it can't really be so obvious that I'm a tourist,” Loki fished with a charming grin fit for a shark.

“No, not a tourist,” the man said with a shake of his head. “Not really. More of a… traveler, if you will. And it's no more obvious than looking in a mirror.”

“Ah, so you're new to Inverness as well.”

“Yes.” His eyes—incredibly green—were laughing as though at a private joke.

Loki nodded, considering, then held out his hand and said, “To my home for the night it is, then.” And Evans took it with a raised eyebrow, which was soon joined by the other as they appeared in the living room of an apartment in a considerably warmer part of the world on which the night had already fallen.

“Nice bit of magic, that,” said Evans. “Smoothest transition I've ever seen.”

And again, Loki was caught slightly off-guard. But only slightly. He was rather more irritated that his move to unsettle the other hadn't worked. “You are familiar with magic?” he asked, recovering.

Now the laughing eyes were joined with pursed and twitching lips. “Yes, I suppose you could say that.” He kicked off his shoes, shrugged off his zipper-up hoodie, and reclined on the nearby sofa, sipping at his coffee all the while.

Loki's silent appraisal of the other man was cut short when Evans cocked his head and asked, “Do I have to invite you to sit on your own couch?”

Loki rolled his eyes but slipped out of his suit jacket and sat beside him all the same. Then, “I was unaware there were sorcerers on Midgard.”

Evans took his time to reply, studying Loki more intensely now. Oddly enough, he relaxed further into the couch before saying, “You're _really_ not from around here.”

Loki laughed lightly as he leaned back as well, pleased at how Evans was responding to the tension growing between them the further they went in this act. He'd known that he wanted to fuck the man before him insensate, but now he was wondering if he wanted to kill Evans more instead. Honestly, such nonchalance in the face of one's betters could not be allowed to stand, and he looked forward to… _humbling_ the man before him. _Regardless of how it happens_ , he thought with a wicked grin, _I win_. Still chuckling, Loki replied, “And _you_ are pleasantly sharp.”

Evans nodded his acceptance of the compliment and smiled—seeming unaffected by Loki's poorly concealed hostility—and said, “Still looking in that mirror.”

Now it was Loki's turn to raise his brows, caught slightly more off-guard this time around than last and not the least bit pleased by that. “Really now? And from where do you hail?” he asked with a poisonous smile, now strongly suspicious of their 'chance' meeting. “It is plain that you are no Asgardian.” And truly, there were so few races this closely humanoid in the Nine Realms that there was little else he _could_ be.

“Not at all,” Evans agreed. “I'm of Midgard, as you call it, just not… _this_ Midgard.”

“Another dimension?” Loki questioned rhetorically, his eyebrows finding their way up his forehead again. “My, how intriguing. I'm actually reconsidering killing you, hearing that.”

Evans threw his head back and howled. “Good luck with that!” he chortled.

Loki scoffed. “Do not be so sure of yourself, mortal.”

Evans affected an affronted air. “Mortal? _Me_? Bah! Believe you me, young god, the only mortal here is you.”

Loki, who could no longer help himself at this point, put voice to the mad laughter in Evans' twinkling eyes, poor outlet for his mounting fury though it was. “Me? _Me_?” he nearly cried. The other man's gall was simply _astounding_.

Evans shrugged, unrepentant. “An exceptionally long-lived one no doubt, but a mortal nonetheless.”

Loki shook his head remorsefully, thinking, _Looks like I'm killing the little gnat after all_. “Ah, Mr. Evans,” he sighed. “Your belief in your own superiority is almost as pitiable as it is irritating.”

Evans propped one leg up between them on the couch and leaned back against the armrest. “Come then, Loki Silvertongue, and wipe the smirk off my face,” he said, shooting Loki a look just as cocky and self-assured as any Thor could manage.

Loki was on him in an instant, dominating the other man with strong, questing hands seeking to conquer and forceful, biting kisses seeking to abuse the lips they fell upon. The man's use of that particular surname had sounded klaxons in the back of Loki's mind, but he was sure nothing would come of it, and he silenced those thoughts. Evans responded with equal fire, holding the god tightly to him in one arm and grasping one of the firm globes of Loki's ass in his other hand, roughly grinding their hips together to an unheard rhythm until they were rutting against each other outright.

Loki pulled away just enough to work Evans' T-shirt free of his jeans, and then he was back at the man, this time mouthing marks along the column of his neck while his hands kneaded their way up to the chest beneath him to pinch and pull at the nipples. Evans was grunting under him, his pelvis pumping steadily up into Loki, and the hand he had pressed to Loki's back glided up to cradle his skull, fingers alternately massaging the scalp there and pulling at the hair threaded between them.

As they carried on, the push and pull between them bringing Loki ever higher, he gave himself over fully to his lust, simply _needing_ to rub himself off on this intolerably proud man, but—even more—needing _his blood_ in recompense for his insult.

And so, as Loki bit down harshly on the patch of skin he'd sucked into his mouth, he coated his right hand with magic ethereal and let it sink slowly past flesh and muscle and bone to wrap—almost gingerly—around Evans' beating heart.

The body beneath him choked and shuddered, and Loki rode Evans' pain to his climax, moaning and rocking through the waves of his release, still caressing the slick and stuttering organ resting in his palm, hardly noticing when his partner finally fell still. Spent and feeling not just a little giddy post-orgasm, Loki removed his teeth from Evans' neck and softly laved at the blood welling up from the swelling bruise there, gently soothing the other man's sensitive skin. The demigod was just beginning to nuzzle behind Evans' ear when he felt two distinct tugs at his hair.

“Yes?” he asked, indulgent, leaning back to better look down on the man beneath him.

Evans shot him an unimpressed look before nodding at the arm protruding from his chest. “Mind removing that?” he whispered, voice oddly easy beside the strained breaths. “It's not exactly comfortable, _and_ you've yet to get me off.”

Loki frowned at him. “And why should I bother to please you at all? I'm finding I would much rather hold your little heart in my hand until it stops its beating.”

Evans sighed as though resigned. “Tell you what: Take it, just make me cum first.”

But Loki began to laugh. “No… No, I don't think I will.”

And he tore the living heart from Evans' chest in a shower of red.

### Tony

“Whoa!” shouted Tony Stark; also known as Iron Man; also a self-styled genius, billionaire, playboy philanthropist. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, _whoa_. Time out. Pause. Hey! How do you pause this thing?”

The life-sized three dimensional projection they were all standing in the midst of suddenly slowed to a near-standstill. [In this case, “they all” refers to: the newly dubbed Avengers (minus one, sadly); Director Nick Fury; Agents Maria Hill and Phil Coulson; and Jim Evans, SHIELD Consultant.] The whole group was standing in a loose semi-circle around the focus of the scene, the entirety of which was apparently the combined memories of Evans and the Earth itself, forced into a quartz and then thoroughly shattered and blown into the air. Tony vaguely wished he could figure that one out, but alas, _fucking magic_. Moving this slow, the crystalline motes of dust projecting the scene became far more obviously visible to him.

“This is the best I can manage without dividing my focus too much,” said Evans.

Tony instantly rounded on him. “I thought you said this was a porno not a snuff film!” His eyes were slightly wide with horror, but he was pretty sure he was hiding it well. Not that everyone else wasn't affected though: Even the unflappable agents were visibly shocked.

Evans shrugged, grinning a little. “Seeing as I'm obviously not dead, I don't think this falls in that category.”

Nick Fury looked hard at him then, along with everyone else really. “Yeah, about that,” he started, his one eye narrowed dangerously. “Care to explain how you can survive _not having a heart_.” Phrased like a question but definitely a command.

Evans paid it just about as much attention as a duck does to the water rolling off its back. “No need to look so suspicious, Director. We're allies, remember?” he said with a sly smile that ruffled Fury's feathers and that usually would have made Tony grin were it not so creepily reminiscent of a certain trickster god's.

Thinking of, Tony glanced across the room at Loki's image. He was moving in extraordinarily slow motion, still straddling memory!Evans' prone form on the couch. In fact, he was still in the process of lifting up the man's heart like some sort of obscene toast to his own victory.

Turning back to the others, he saw Fury snarl a little—Tony was pretty sure that it was only in compensation for his other eye—and up his glare a couple notches. “Alliances break every day.”

“True,” acknowledged Evans, “but I'll let you know a little fact about myself that should ease your mind: I am, in an abstract sense, the Earth's husband. I cannot quite yet fill that role, but she is continually building my soul up to it. As of now, we are irrevocably connected, and I've seen and felt her die almost a dozen times across this multiverse already. Trust me: it _sucks_ , and I'll do all I can to postpone it here.”

Tony's mind was fucking _reeling_. There were an in _sane_ number of implications in that little speech—Tony was _still_ filtering some of them out—and the inferences he was already drawing from those that he _did_ have would've totally fried his brain were he any less than the genius he was. Leaning around a dumbstruck Steve Rogers ( _Honestly_ , Tony thought. _Captain America, my ass. At least Point Break over there has the excuse of thinking he's about to watch his brother have sex—and really, that thought's traumatic enough as it is—only to see him try to murder somebody instead. Talk about ouch. I mean, you think you know somebody, right?_ ) Tony caught the eye of his fellow scientist, Dr. Bruce Banner, and yes, good, he _does_ look appropriately mind-blown. Bruce mimes taking notes and motions for Tony to give him something, but he's already got Tony's personal tablet in his face. Not even a second later they're both having a silent brainstorm session, Bruce on the tablet and Tony on his phone.

Meanwhile, on Bruce's other side, Natasha Romanoff said, only halfway to sarcastic, “I'm sorry, could you say that again? I'm still stuck on, 'I am the Earth's husband.' ”

Coulson nodded, a confused light to his eyes and the usual dumb smile on his face. “Yeah, I'm really trying _not_ to think about how that works.”

Now _that_ caught Tony's ear for a second—because, _Seriously, how_ does _that work?_ —and he looked up to peer curiously at Evans. “Yeah, how _do_ two spirits or whatever have sex anyway?”

(And on a side-note, that's all the proof a reader might need to realize that Tony Stark's brain-mouth filter is a fickle, _fickle_ friend indeed.)

At his side, Rogers spluttered. “Stark!”

This particular version of the good captain's bark was probably meant to sound sharp and stern, but it came out more than a little high-pitched and totally failed at intimidating Tony into remorseful silence. Besides, Tony's never really done remorse. Or silence either for that matter.

A lot of people tried to hide grins, and Evans was even laughing. To Tony, he responded, “They don't actually.”

“ _Seriously_?” said Tony. “Wait. Does that mean 'Mother Earth' is a _virgin_ and this is all like _the_ immaculate conception?” And Tony really loved drawing so much reluctant laughter from all the stuck-ups in the room—save poor, traumatized Thor who wouldn't get the reference on the best of days and the ever exasperated Fury, that is.

Still grinning, Evans nodded. “In a way, I suppose you could consider her as such.”

Even Natasha raised an eyebrow at that. “Really?” she drawled. “That's kind of a shame because you make quite the seductor.”

Evans gave her a short bow, eyes twinkling and lips smirking. “Thank you, milady. I aim to please. Though I'm sure none could match your prowess in that particular field.”

“Can we get this meeting back on track,” Fury not-quite roared. Again, phrased as a question, _to_ tally not a question.

Evans nodded. “Yes, let's. I need to find out just what he did with my heartblood.”

“Er,” stuttered Rogers. “You don't know…?”

“I was a bit too busy making sure I didn't bleed out and keeping my circulatory system up and running to pay much attention during these next two minutes or so,” Evans answered, striking a nice balance of patient and disinterested with no condescension in sight.

 _And gobsmacked!Rogers is back in full-force_ , Tony thought as he turned his attention to the front of the room were the images of Evans and Loki sped up into real-time once more.

### Loki

Loki's laughter was positively gleeful as he held Evans' spastic heart before him. He climbed off the body of his victim, contemplating his prize and leaving the man on the sofa to finish bleeding out into his chest cavity. Loki actually giggled some at the sounds the muscle made as it started pumping more air than blood, making a squicky squelching sound that he found endlessly amusing.

“What to do with you, what to do…” he murmured as he meandered into the bedroom. _A shoebox, perhaps?_ and he dropped the heart on the bed to go take a peek in the closet. Loki was mildly surprised when he opened the narrow door to see the cold and stiff body of the apartment's previous owner, a middle-aged Panamanian native, still laid out on the closet floor. “I'd quite forgotten about you,” he said aloud, giving the dead man a nudge with his foot. He debated vaporizing the corpse before the stench became bothersome, but decided to leave it since he probably would not return here after this night.

He was crouched down in the closet and shuffling things around, having just dragged the body aside, when he felt a dagger—one of _his_ daggers—at his throat…

### Tony

“Wait,” said the Cap, and the scene slowed down again, “what happened to the 'heartblood' thing?”

Evans sighed, sounding exasperated. “I _know_. I gotta say, I'm rather disappointed. Blood gathered from the still-beating heart of an adversary would have had _so much_ potential for defensive magics. He must not be half so learned as I had thought.”

Thor made a noise that sounded vaguely offended on his adopted brother's behalf; though from the look on his face, Tony figured it was a token protest at best.

“Now,” continued Evans, “we're coming onto the part that you all need to see.”

### Loki

—at his throat and heard the voice of a ghost in his ear.

“Your bloodlust amuses me, but perhaps we should indulge in the plainer kind for now. At least until you learn how to balance the two a bit better, hm?”

Loki couldn't quite control his raised brow (as he was more than just a little disbelieving at the man's audacity in using _his own weapon_ against him, and equally apprehensive as he thought, _How did he even get it?_ and, _Why is it not responding to my summons?_ ) so he was grateful Evans was unable to see his face. Filling his voice with false bravado, he said, “Was that really a jab at my sanity? _Really_?”

And Evans chuckled darkly in response. “Quite.”

Loki laughed along. “Well, fun as this has been, I think it's time for me to go.”

The laughter behind him grew louder, but Loki paid it no mind as he teleported away.

And promptly ran headlong into a metaphysical brick wall.

The sudden impact sent him reeling, and he was blinded by the shock of it, and that shock quickly morphed into a pulsating pounding pain piercing all his brain.

### Tony

And that was about exactly when Point Break flipped his shit.

“What have you done to my brother, James of Hel?!” the Asgardian roared at Evans, hammer halfway raised to smiting position.

While everyone else took an involuntary step back, Evans actually _snickered_. At an irate demigod. With said demigod's brother's terror-filled screams still ringing throughout the room. Like, _what_?

“Peace, Thor,” said Evans, waving him down like he was some kind of puppy, “and watch. Pay close attention to Loki's eyes.”

 _…What_ , Tony thought, watching as Thor _actually did as he was told_. Because, _Come on, he was totally about to shish kebab this guy with a freaking_ lightning bolt _and now he's being all quiescent and reasonable and shit? Like,_ really _?_

Apparently, yes, really, because even Tony was following Evans' directions (and now seriously, _what_ ) and peering intently at Loki's eyes, which was actually really hard to do because no matter how big a jerk the guy was, it was ridiculously hard to see someone in that much pain, especially to look him in the eyes, and Tony was just about to look away (because, _Seriously, this is getting damn hard to bear_ ) when he saw it.

Loki's eyes flashed the brightest shade of cobalt blue he'd ever seen.

He heard Natasha gasp and Fury and Hill started mumbling to each other, and then Reindeer Games' eyes flashed again, and again, and again, faster and faster each time, and his screams kept getting louder and he was sounding ridiculously hoarse—like, I'm-tearing-the-lining-from-my-throat-with-nine-inch-nails kinda hoarse—and he was thrashing like crazy in Evans' arms and,

“Doesn't this thing have a mute button?!” Tony cried, his eyes squeezed shut.

Evans gave him a _look_ and a small smile, both filled with understanding. “Loki may not deserve it,” he said, “but you should still pay him the honor of bearing witness to his suffering, as one living being to another.”

Struck sober, Tony reluctantly hardened his heart, but still grouched, “Well, it's not like he'll ever know I was watching this anyway.”

And Evans nodded. “True. In this case, the practice is more for our own sake rather than his.”

Tony fell silent along with every other member of the room, all of them feeling vaguely guilty after that brief exchange, and watched as Loki was quickly and brutally tortured into insanity by the thing controlling his mind. The thrashing quickly grew worse and his voice almost broke entirely when came all-out seizures (and the sudden absence of screams was far more chilling than Tony could ever have expected it to be) and they could all see clearly the whites of Loki's eyes and he was frothing at the mouth and shaking in Evans' hold. When those finally passed, the foreign power shining through his eyes faded as well; and Loki, instead of falling unconscious, broke down in tears and started puking, sobbing so much in between that he could never quite catch his breath; and Evans kept on hugging him, even rocked him like a baby, and murmured soothing things about how it's going to be okay and how it's alright, it's alright, shush now, child. 

Tony actually sniffled a bit and he was pretty sure his eyes were red. God knows they itched like mad and there was probably a corner of his mind that was bawling like crazy. The rest of him though was busy not-vividly-remembering what water torture was like.

Evans cleared his throat, and the tension in the air popped like a balloon. “To alleviate some of your concerns, breaking the controls over Selvig's and Barton's minds will be nowhere near so disastrous. A solid knock on the head and they should be right as rain. Well, they'll probably have quite the headache, but a little aspirin and some rest will clear that right up.”

Coulson actually sagged with relief and even Natasha looked like she was taking a moment to pray her thanks up into the sky somewhere.

“Is that what that was, James of Hel?” asked Thor. “That was you breaking another's will over my brother's mind?”

Evans did one of those awkward shrug-nod things, looking embarrassed and guilty and apologetic all at once. “Yes, but I didn't mean to,” he answered. “I didn't even know he was under any mind control at all. But when he tried to teleport away, he ran into a ward that I put up. That should've been the end of it, but…”

“But hitting that block, it was like hitting his head,” deduced Bruce.

“Exactly,” said Evans, “and it shook loose whatever orders he was given by whoever, and whoever _noticed_ and tried to reassert its commands, and then _I_ noticed it come in from wherever, and it noticed me noticing, so it tried to possess Loki so it could use his body to eliminate me or whatever, but I grabbed for Loki's mind at the same time because it was stupidly obvious what it was about to do, so then we were grappling with Loki's mind for a while, or rather I was trying to snatch it from whoever and keep it busy enough that it wouldn't be able to attack me because someone that strong honestly would've wiped Panama off the map had whoever it was been there to _physically_ fight with me, but then it hit some sorta kill switch in Loki's mind and I figured I should stop being gentle with the thing and just take it already. So I did.”

In the stunned silence that followed this, it was surprisingly Fury who spoke first. (“Surprisingly” because Tony's usually the one to process these things the fastest.) Predictably, Fury went straight for the most pressing point in Evans' ridiculous run-on: “Are you one-hundred percent certain our men don't have these 'kill switches'?”

Evans nodded. “Totally. That scepter Loki was waving around the other day is a repository of this other person's power, not an actual container for the being itself, nor is it connected to Mr. Whoever's consciousness. In Loki's case, he was being controlled by the guy directly, and I'm pretty sure he only created the kill switch once I'd compromised the poor kid 'cause I didn't sense anything of the sort at the beginning of the… I don't know, I guess you could call it a fight, but—”

Fury was quick to cut him off before he could fall into any more rambles. “So, any idea on who the third party is?”

“Oh, yeah, I know,” Evans claimed. “And believe you me, that fight'll _suck_. The further away you wage that war from Earth, the better. But worry about that tomorrow. Loki's still trying to take over the world today.”

“Now wait a damn minute,” Fury growled. “You mean to tell me you had your fingers all in that psycho's head, _healing him_ , and you couldn't be bothered to—oh, I don't know— _tell him not to take over the damn planet_?”

“Well, yeah.” The _duh_ went very loudly unsaid.

“Dammit, Evans. I don't know whether I should be happy or pissed that you actually have morals.” Though really, Fury sounded more resigned than anything.

“Happy,” Evans replied. “Trust me. Otherwise, I probably would have killed Agent Sitwell by now simply for the fun of it.”

Agent gave a small shout in protest. “What's the matter with Agent Sitwell? He happens to be a friend of mine.”

Evans shrugged. “That says more bad things about you, Agent Coulson, than it does good about him. And really. He's far too smarmy."

"Evans," called the thunderer. "I thought Loki's orders broke."

"Which they did," Evans replied with a nod.

"Then why would my brother still…"

But Evans was already shaking his head. "I'm sorry, Thor, but I'm afraid now it's just for fun."

While Thor struggled to process the fact that yes, his little brother was actually evil even when in his right mind, Hill cleared her throat to gain everyone's attention before turning to Fury. “Sir, you're needed outside.”

“Thank God,” Fury muttered. “Coulson, Romanoff, dissect this bastard until you can describe him to me inside and out.”

Evans was quick to wave Thor down again. “No, they're not actually going to cut Loki open. That there's just a picture of him, remember?”

Fury looked like he was barely containing the urge to roll his eyes. “Dr. Banner, Stark, you've got a Tesseract to find.”

“The algorithm's already up and running,” Bruce informed. “We're just waiting on a hit.”

“Which Bruce and JARVIS can keep an eye out for just fine without me,” Tony said. “I _will not be moved_ until I get to see some action.”

Fury rolled his eyes at him (because apparently Tony did not warrant the same manners as an alien allied prince visiting from outer space) and stalked off with Hill, giving a polite nod to the rest of the room.

Meanwhile, Point Break was looking between them all with hopeful eyes. “There is to be fighting?” he asked the room, visibly perking up at the thought.

“Er, I don't think that's the kind of action Stark's talking about, Thor,” the Cap piped up, side-eyeing Evans and Tony's matching smirks with an embarrassed blush.

“Oh. _Oh_!” cried Thor in realization and dawning horror. “I believe… _Eurgh_. Excuse me.”

And Tony was totally within his rights to roll around laughing his ass off when the demigod ran helter skelter out of there.

Bruce followed him at a slower place, still typing away on Tony's tablet and tossing an absent wave over his shoulder. “Have fun, Tony.” He probably meant for it to come out sarcastic, but in reality it sounded awkwardly sincere.

Tony nodded anyway, grinning with a leer. “Will do.”

The Capsicle shuffled a bit before nodding after the others. “Well, if you don't need me, I'll—”

“Stay.” Evans' voice might've been soft, but it carried just fine.

“But—”

“Stay.”

Cap actually looked fit to burst. “ _Why_? I mean, it's just…”

Evans stopped him from fishing for the right word. “It is _not_ 'just sex', or 'just anything', really. It's your enemy at his most vulnerable.”

“But I… I can't watch _that_.” Whether he meant due to mortification or dishonor, Tony couldn't tell.

“Hm. Perhaps not. And isn't that a shame. 'Know thy enemy' and all that rot, right?” But then Evans shrugged and shooed Rogers off to the door as he turned his attention toward Agent. “Agent Coulson, could you perhaps make a call for some chairs or something? We're going to be here a while longer yet.”

While Agent nodded and made the call, Tony grinned at Evans and waggled his eyebrows. “You two went that long, eh?” he said with a lecherous grin.

Evans grinned back, though his eyes looked far away. “Well, I did. He… was just _resilient_.”

Tony goggled, saying, “ _No way_.”

“Oh, yeah,” Evans nodded. “Apparently, it's an alien thing.”

“No way!”

“Yu _p!_ ” And he even popped the 'p' and everything, the smug bastard.

Tony was just about to start on a rant about how totally not-jealous he was of Evans' awesomely epic lay, when the (lingering) Cap asked, “What are you two even talking about?”

And Evans smiled beatifically at the poor, repressed fool and said, “Sex, of course.”

So Tony really can't be blamed for almost pissing himself with laughter because it was totally _not his fault_ this time that Rogers was both speechless and beet red.

“Steve,” Evans said softly as Tony got over his fit. “You really don't have to watch if you don't want to. Okay?”

Capsicle nodded, still blushing. “Okay.”

And when the chairs finally came, Rogers sat with the rest of them; and Tony thought, _Maybe there's a redeemable closet pervert in there after all_.

### Loki

By the time Loki came back to himself, his eyes were swimming with tears, his mouth tasted of vomitus, nausea rolled his stomach, and his head was spinning. He was seated on the floor in the small closet, his upper body propped against a bare chest that was hard and flat and strong. He was cradled in the embrace of the man's arms and legs, one hand gently carding through his hair to try and soothe the persistent ache in his skull while soft lips pressed softer kisses to his temple.

“Shhh…” Evans was murmuring, over and over again, and it took Loki a moment to realize that he was actually _crying_ —not just from the watery eyes caused by his vicious headache, but sobbing from the sorrows of his soul. Loki knew he usually kept a well of the poisonous things; he liked them there, deep and hidden from the rest of himself as they were, and he would draw from the well occasionally to feed his anguish to his anger, like one would dried logs to a pyre. The analytical part of his mind (and thank the stars it was still there) hypothesized that he was probably having a physiological reaction to prolonged contact with Evans' magic while he was championing him against the Other's master: That is to say that not only did the might of his power tear parts of Loki's mind asunder, but it also made the hormones produced by his brain start running amok. Looking closer at the mess inside his head, Loki realized that Evans' hand in his hair was actually pushing magic into his brain and helping Loki's own innate magic set things to rights (and a large portion of his mind was already writing new plans and rewriting old ones now that he no longer had to bend around another's whims to meet his own ends.)

Loki, quick to recognize that he had just attempted to murder someone vastly more powerful than himself, would easily admit to having made a mistake (though he was too prideful to ever actually apologize for it) and so he was left wondering why Evans was not leaving him to suffer for this wrongdoing. It wasn't until a few minutes later—once his mind was finally, _blissfully_ clear and his body was following his commands—that the only logical explanation occurred to him.

_I can't believe he's actually still trying to sleep with me._

But even as Evans' healing magic faded away, Evans himself pulled Loki further into his chest, tucking his chin snugly against his shoulder and smiling contentment into the skin of Loki's neck. “Better?” he asked.

Still fairly dazed, Loki simply nodded.

“Excellent.”

And nimble fingers made quick work of the knot in his skewed necktie and of the buttons on his rumpled shirt, then rubbing lightly at the crotch of his pants only briefly before rubbing circles into his chest and stomach. Loki relaxed into the warm body behind him with a sigh; and when the small part of his mind that just kept thinking incredulously, _He spared me insanity simply for my sex_ , got too loud, he told it to shut up and shoved that part of himself away. He decided very firmly not to question this particular gift and to take what was offered. It helped as well that nothing he knew of could take away the sting of remembered pain better than present pleasures.

Evans eased his shirt aside to bare Loki's shoulder, and he began kissing lightly along the solid curves there, lips massaging tension from Loki's muscles, and the trickster let his head lull backwards to rest on the other man, enjoying the feeling of wild hair on his face. When Evans eventually stopped tracing the muscles of his abdomen and undid his trousers, Loki was all too happy to lift his hips and help push his clothes out of the way, and he sighed once more when Evans' strong hand reached down between his spread thighs and caressed his flaccid member.

Evans made a pleasantly surprised sound when Loki's cock immediately jumped in his hand, becoming half-full from one moment to the next from nothing more than the man's touch. He smiled through the kisses he trailed up Loki's neck and whispered in his ear, “I'm going to have to make you cum again, aren't I? Before I can let you take me in.” Then he groaned little. “Your body's so responsive.” And as he spoke, Evans gave the pulsing organ in his hand one long, torturously slow pull and watched it grow with a grin.

Loki's heart was beating faster now, though he managed to keep his breathing even. Distractedly, he said, “My race climaxes often during sex and is easily aroused.” And then realized distantly that he was probably over-sharing.

Evans chuckled and pulled away from where he was sucking on Loki's earlobe. “I'm going to have so much fun discovering all the music your body makes, Loki,” he murmured as he scooted around to face him and dragged his pants down and off his long legs.

And Loki honestly couldn't help the happy little shiver that raced down his spine as he shrugged out of his shirt because that voice was so deliciously low and he could listen to it talk about him like this for hours, and he grinned (though really, it actually came out looking like something far more genuine) as Evans pushed him to lie back, not minding in the least that his head and shoulders came to rest on the stiff legs of the dead man behind him. In fact, that seemed to be what Evans was aiming for as he shuffled Loki's body over further until the corpse was under his lower back and keeping his hips lifted and exposed, his turgid prick and squeezing sphincter waiting proud and ready for the other man.

Evans easily found some lubricant in the drawer of one of the bedside tables, and he poured a generous amount of the jelly over his fingers as he knelt between Loki's knees, spread wide to welcome him. He shivered at the first slick touch to his opening, and then once again when Evans kissed the head of his cock, opening his mouth only enough to suck hard at the slit there, the foreskin sliding up between his lips under the pressure. Loki moaned at the feeling and used his hands to pull his legs up at the knees and open himself to more of Evans' touch. The finger running circles over the tight ring of muscles at his hole bade him to close his eyes and revel in each individual pleasure as it came.

When the first finger finally breached him, Evans began working his mouth over his cock in earnest. The man's free hand took hold of him as well, twisting and pulling at him firmly while Evans' head bobbed up and down in time with the finger preparing his passage. By the time Evans had worked his ring finger in beside the middle and was thrusting the two as deeply into Loki's body as they could go, Loki was panting harshly and longing to either pump his hips into the other man's face or drive them as hard as he could onto his hand, and Loki's pleasure manifested as a low grumbling, deep and guttural, in his chest: the noise less like a purr and more like a growl.

“ _Evans_ … “ Then he thought, Damn. _What was I about to say?_

But Evans released his prick with a wet _plop_ and said, “Gotchya.”

And then then man was suckling at his balls and fisting a hand around the head of his dick and hooking the fingers inside him to _drag_ them—again and again—over his sensitive walls, and Loki howled and whined like a bitch in heat because, by the Norns, he wanted _more_ and if Evans didn't let go of his balls _right this second_ and _let him cum_ , he would _DESTROY THIS PLACE_.

And then his climax was finally upon him—sudden, inexorable—and it was… _exquisite_.

It was that perfect moment of a free-fall, just before gravity remembers to take hold of you and you're left weightless and floating.

And in that moment he forgot the pains of his past and the aims of his future, and he knew nothing of life but this feeling.

Loki came long and he came hard, and when the bonelessness faded and he could think somewhat clearly again, he realized that he was lying on his back on the bed with two thin pillows tucked under his hips, his legs tossed over a naked Evans' shoulders, and three of the man's fingers stretching him as far as he could go.

“Truly, Evans?” he asked on a weary sigh, trying to ignore the way his heart jumped at the thought of what was to come, but his prick was still mostly hard and it happily twitched.

The man watched transfixed as he let his fingers be pushed naturally out of Loki's body, licking his lips but nodding to Loki all the same. “Brace yourself,” he advised as he coated his prick with the lube.

Loki was quaking from anticipation and a tiny bit of apprehension as he felt Evans line his cock up with his entrance. _I'm about half a minute away from losing consciousness, and he wants to fuck_ now, was all that Loki processed before Evans began pressing into him, and Loki hissed at the low burn, but Evans kept going, slow and steady, until his pelvis sat flush against Loki's open ass, and he rested there for a moment—probably only for Loki's sake—before he moved: small rocking motions aided by an arm wrapped about Loki's waist, a gentle press deeper, a soft release, press, release; and Evans tangled a hand in Loki's hair and kissed him just as deeply, Loki's legs spread wide and jumbled with his arms—and Loki thought nothing of throwing his own arms around the man's neck and returning the intimacy.

And they stayed this way, pressed close and rocking together like the tide, until Evans was panting and gasping and breathing pleas to a nameless god into Loki's mouth, and Loki was sobbing again, breaths hiccuping over a need he couldn't define; and he was _begging_ then, crying out, “I can't, I _can't_ , Evans, _please_ , damn it all, just _please_ ,” and so Evans wrapped his hand around Loki's weeping prick and brought him over the edge for the third damn time that night with just two wicked pumps to the shaft, and Loki's legs shook where they were wrapped about Evans' hips and waist, wanting to fall, as Loki shot his seed between them with a reedy moan; and Evans—dear, insane Evans, with the stamina of a hundred Æsir—gasped loudly and rubbed their chests together all through the mess before attacking Loki in a frenzy, with lips and teeth and tongue at his neck and with their hips separating for the first time (leaving Loki feeling empty for the first damn time) then coming back together again with the _crack!_ of skin on skin and a blinding force that jarred Loki's entire body filling him again and again with a willfulness and determination that could only belong to Evans, but damn if it didn't feel like it was Loki's too.

And then Loki was screaming because Evans's god did have a name and it was Loki, _Loki_! It was _Loki_ who answered the man's prayers, _Loki_ whose name was on those lips, and the sound of it was beautiful; and Loki was screaming because Evans was painting him from the inside out in the man's own colors, and it was beautiful; and Loki was screaming because there was nothing else to _do_ with a pleasure battering such exposed nerves to the point of _pain_ , and it was _beautiful_ ; and Loki was screaming because he knew— _he knew!_ —he was dying with it all, but not the death of any mere mortal, oh, no, but the death of a star magnificent in the depths of space, in the midst of blinding flashes of light and blazing fire and rebirth, and he was _dying_.

And _damn_ , but it was beautiful.

### Tony

“Can I see that again?”

Tony's head spun around to stare at Natasha so fast he was pretty sure he could sue her for whiplash. But her voice had been so tiny and—look!—she's _blushing_.

“Are you _blushing_?” he cried. “Natasha Romanoff's _blushing_?”

(… Exhibit B of the “fickle filter” phenomenon.)

And that was how he learned that Nat was deadly in all forms; even in that awkward mix of highly embarrassed and more than just a bit turned on, the glare was just as fierce as ever.

“Well,” began the Cap, providing a point _anywhere else_ in the room for Tony to focus on (though now that he was looking for it, he noticed that the scene was still playing), “it _was_ very… wow.”

Agent bobbed his head, his stare still a little dumb. “Yeah, what Captain Rogers said. That definitely looked more like two lovers than a one-night stand.”

Evans cocked his head and made his eyes look a great deal like a bewildered puppy's. “They're separate in this universe?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” said Tony, and even Nat was nodding along with him.

Evans hummed, saying, “How sad.”

“What's sad?” asked the Cap.

And Evans gave a mournful sorta smile and shrugged a bit and said, “That there are so many worlds where making love with a perfect stranger isn't the norm. So,” and he turned to Natasha again, “why did you need to see it again?”

The super-spy quickly pinned him with an assessing gaze and gave him a once-over before replying, “So I can figure out how you did it.”

“Did what?” Evans asked.

“Make him fall in love with you.” And she said it like she was accusing him of a cold-blooded murder, the execution of which she was reluctantly impressed with.

And Evans looked genuinely surprised, along with Tony and Rogers. Agent, he noticed, was still looking decidedly awed. “What?” said Evans, followed immediately by, “No, I didn't.”

“Yes, you did,” Nat shot back, and Coulson was nodding along with her while Tony and Capsicle leaned back and watched the match.

“No. I didn't.”

“Yeah. You did.”

“No, I really didn't.”

“Love might be a bit strong a term,” Agent added (butted) in, “but he definitely trusts you and he'll _always_ have a soft spot for you now.”

A pause, then, “Huh,” was Evans' eloquent reply, and he sat back in his chair, massaging his chin and looking off into the distance for a moment. Then he murmured, “A part of him could probably tell.”

Natasha's stare got just that little bit fiercer, impatience leaking into her tone. “Tell _what_?”

And Evans stayed silent, his only response to stare at Nat with the huge weight of something none of them could define churning behind his eyes like endless seas.

“Oh, my god…”

Well. None of them _except_ Natasha.

“ _Shhh_. It's my secret weapon,” Evans confided with a wink and an impish grin.

Nat was just staring with a gaping mouth, and Tony had to push away the urge to shiver because, _Seriously, that's just_ wrong.

So he asked, “ _What's_ your secret weapon?”

And Evans looked at him with laughter in his eyes and carefully enunciated, “A secret.”

Tony scowled.

Agent stared.

Nat was still gaping.

Cap was confused, so he just turned to Coulson and asked hopefully, “So, are we done here?”

Agent shook his head like he was clearing it and answered, “No. No, I don't think we are. Evans,” he called, watching where the memory of the man was quietly laughing as he checked the comatose demigod's pulse, “could you fast-forward to the part where Loki regains consciousness? I'd like to see some pillow talk as well.”

Tony idly thought the phrase “pillow talk” had never sounded funnier. _Though the delivery_ was _impressively clinical._

Evans shrugged. “Sure, though Tony'd probably like to see a bit more, hm?” he asked, eyes shining with the smile that was trying to tug at his mouth.

Laughing, Tony leaned back in his chair, saying, “Not denying it.” He could always break the earlier part of this conversation down later, preferably once he got back to the lab.

So the scene started speeding up a bit, and Tony gaped and gagged a little when he saw what memory!Evans was doing. “Did you seriously fuck the shit out of him?!” he cried, watching the hyper-speed sponge bath play out in morbid fascination.

Evans sighed, long and heavy, with an inexorable grin on his face and gazed off at that same far-off point that had caught his eye earlier. “Yu _p!_ ”

The Captain wrinkled his nose as he caught sight of a streak of brown along the sheets memory!Evans was tearing away from the bed. “Oh, dear lord, that's _disgusting_!”

“Eh,” Evans dismissed with another shrug. “It's anal sex, shit happens from time to time.”

“But it's… it's…” Capsicle stuttered.

“Shit,” suggested Tony.

Rogers grimaced but nodded all the same. “Yeah, that. Isn't it gross to be… Oh, I don't know…”

“Covered in somebody else's shit?” Evans finished.

More grimacing. “Er, yeah…”

Evans laughed a little as the picture of him disappeared into the bathroom, presumably to take a shower. “Well, of course, but it washes off easily enough so I've never really thought it was a big deal.”

Natasha chose that moment to rejoin the land of the living, seemingly fully recovered from whatever it was she and Evans where blathering on about earlier, and changed the topic of conversation like a bullet train hitting a Nissan, saying, “I should call in a description of that victim over there to the national police force in Panama.”

And everyone got extra tense, extra fast (except Evans, who apparently had several sociopathic tendencies himself, the creep), and they all turned to stare at the dead man Loki had dragged out of the closet earlier.

Then Tony said, “I can't believe you had someone lie on a freaking corpse so you could give him blowjob,” and shot Evans a what-the-actual-fuck kinda look.

Even Agent nodded and said, “Yeah, between having sex in a puddle of feces and the removal of internal organs _and_ all the throwing up Loki was doing earlier, that borderline necrophilia is still the one that creeps me out the most.”

Nat nodded as well, phone still pressed to her ear. “Agreed.”

But the Cap shook his head. “I'm still stuck on the… uh, shit.”

And Tony seriously _could not_ help laughing because it was like Rogers just didn't know how to swear and he was in the _army_ for christ's sake. _Like,_ ha _!_

Then Evans brought the conversation back around. “Truth is, I knew Loki was a bit of a necrophile.”

“I thought it was necrophiliac,” Tony said. Then, “Wait, are you _serious_?”

Evans nodded. “Oh, yeah, totally. He's not much of one, but I guess you could say the idea of it makes him feel naughty or something stupid like that.”

And again, the term “naughty” had never sounded funnier to Tony.

Natasha smirked a little. “So, this entire thing was all to cater to a whiny sociopath of a prince who's in the middle of throwing an inter-galactic temper tantrum?”

Evans smiled at her, the grin growing wider and wider, his eyes shining bright, until he suddenly burst into fits of giggles, which soon turned into all-out laughter, which then became loud guffaws. Tony chanced a glance at Nat and saw that her teasing smirk from before had morphed into a thin, straight line and that she was glaring daggers at the other man.

“What now, Evans?” she asked, almost spitting the words.

“You…!” Evans cried, trying to catch his breath. “You… think Loki's just some _sociopath_?” he asked incredulously. “You actually think this is how a _demigod_ throws a _tantrum_? Oh, Romanoff, darling, _please_ , be serious.”

And then there was silence in the midst of the man's laughter.

Until Coulson said, matter-of-factly, “We are in such deep shit.”

Admittedly, Tony's genius worked just a tad slower in regards to people, so he was still trying to re-analyze everything he'd seen and heard of Loki over the past few days in light of Evans' words, beginning with the obvious: _“Just a sociopath,” he'd said. What's more dangerous than a sociopath? A psychopath. Why would Nat think Loki's “just a sociopath”? Because he's rash, impulsive, emotionally invested on some level (probably his daddy issues, not to mention Thor—who he hates—and his attachment to Earth), plus his anger issues that can rival ol' Jolly Green himself. And that would be bad but not awful because a lot of sociopaths have a conscience somewhere in their heads, especially when dealing with the few people they might have formed close bonds with. It's bad but not awful because they often feel mildly guilty at the end of the day, not to mention they drop clues to what they're up to like crazy (or at least in comparison to most psychopaths)._

_But Evans is saying that none of that's the case._

_Because Loki is actually a psychopath._

_Probably pretending to be a sociopath._

_And leaving us a trail of breadcrumbs_ toward _the wicked witch's house, and hiding them just so, so that we can all think we're so damn clever once we've figured it out._

_A psychopath who'd been stuck with cortical underarousal for at least a thousand years and has decided to unleash all his pent-up desires here on Earth._

“It's his fucking coming out party.”

Evans, still smiling like a lunatic, nodded at Tony. “And I'm _so_ looking forward to the show.”

“And that's all it will be,” said Natasha. “Won't it? Because you gave us a happy psychopath instead of a vengeful one. That's the whole reason you sought him out in the first place.”

Evans bowed to her slightly from his seat. “Your skills are simply out _stand_ ing, Agent Romanoff.”

And at this confirmation, Tony heaved a gusty sigh and slouched in his seat, feeling like he'd just dodged a bullet. _Or_ , he thought, _like the entire planet's just dodged the first shot fired at fucking Armageddon. Like,_ damn.

“Wait, wait, wait!” cried the Captain, waving both hands and shaking his head. “Are you guys saying that Loki's only _staging_ a hostile takeover of the entire planet?”

Coulson nodded. “Yeah, that's pretty much it.”

“Now, don't get me wrong,” Evans added, “he's still a hellishly awful person, and he'll probably kill hundreds more before he's through here, but he has no interest in actually ruling the Earth.”

Capsicle nodded grimly. “But he is still our enemy—” (and Tony thought that sounded ridiculously like something a certain thunder god would say) “—so we take him out.”

“You take him into custody,” corrected Evans.

“What?!” Tony shouted. “You can't be serious!”

“Oh, he is,” groused Natasha, obviously wishing otherwise.

“But—” he began.

“No,” said Coulson. “He's still the prince of a foreign superpower. No matter what he does here, the only thing we can do to him is send him home.”

_ARGHHH!!!!!!_

(And thankfully, Tony's brain-mouth filter remained on this time around.)

Instead of actually screaming, Tony merely said, “Can I please watch some porn now, Evans? Let the agents talk this out later, yeah?”

Evans laughed at him and said, “Coming right up.”

And Tony snickered while everyone else rolled their eyes, but they all settled in to watch the show _instead_ of bitching about lame jokes like they probably would have otherwise, so whatever.

It didn't take much longer for the projection to speed through the rest of Loki's convalescence, since during all their talking it appeared as though memory!Evans had finished his shower, made the bed, found a jar for his heart (and here, Tony thought, _Seriously?_ ), settled in bed with a makeshift ashtray, and smoked an entire cigar. As the scene finally slowed down to real-time again, memory!Evans sat further back against the headboard and gathered the sleeping god close to himself, and Loki unconsciously wrapped his arms about the man's hips and buried his face in his thigh. Memory!Evans tangled a hand in his hair and relaxed, slouching a little and puffing on his second cigar, eyes closed and mouth in a small smile. He was only halfway through his smoke when Loki began to stir, nuzzling Evans' leg with a content kinda hum in the back of his throat.

### Loki

No words were spoken between them as Loki finally woke and craned his head slightly to place kiss after gentle kiss all across the other man's lower abdomen, and Evans merely continued to cup the back of the trickster's head, his fingers caught up in the long black locks, and he would swirl spicy-sweet cigar smoke in his mouth before breathing it out on a long sigh, relaxing ever further as Loki teased the flesh surrounding his soft manhood. And when Loki finally deigned to lavish his kisses there, these too were unhurried and playful and continued long after he'd been brought fully erect, heedless of the encouragement Evans was massaging into the base of his skull. Gradually, the soft butterfly kisses scattering over Evans' length became hard, sucking things that made his head lull back against the wooden board and sent his eyes rolling behind their lids. Loki shifted closer, hugging Evans' hips more tightly to himself with one arm while the other hand lightly grasped the man's cock, and Loki pulled back to watch his fingers glide over it in exploration, to see the shaft shining with his saliva, the head crying softly pearlescent tears from within its foreskin. When Loki pulled back those folds and wrapped his lips around the bare nerves with hollowed cheeks to suck langorously at the bitter there, Evans' breath hitched a little and he almost swallowed the smoke from his cigar; so he put it out in the ashtray and summoned a simpler cigarette to smoke instead before settling back once more to enjoy the younger man's attentions.

Loki was thorough in his investigations, though that was more from curiosity than anything else (and slow, though that was more laziness). But Evans' didn't seem to mind at all, so Loki was happy to take as long as he wanted. By the time he found his favorite thing about Evans' cock (that being the way he could feel the steady pulse of blood on his tongue when he pressed it gently against the fat vein that ran along the underside of the shaft) Evans had long since finished his cigarette and his deep breaths were leaving him in quiet sighs at every exhalation. The man's entire body was lax and boneless, and Loki decided to finally focus on pleasing him, now knowing just what Evans liked best.

He started with the head, kissing and licking and sucking it for long minutes until Evans groaned a little under his breath; then he took it past his lips and hugged it between the back of his tongue and the roof of his mouth, and he bobbed over the first few inches like that, massaging and sucking downward while his hand pumped and twisted up from the base. Evans' hand in his hair was petting him with soft caresses at first; but as his breath came heavier, his grip on the strands tightened until he held it in a clenched fist, his climax washing over him in waves. Loki moaned as he swallowed most of the other man's seed—half out of discomfort, half out of pleasure—but with the last mouthful of cum, he sat up, straddled Evans' lap, leaned down, and kissed the man. Evans gave a short hum of surprise as his mouth was filled with his own semen, pushed there by one deep thrust of Loki's tongue, but then he moaned and pulled the demigod closer, and Loki's hands wound into the man's thick hair, and the kiss was messy and slow, their tongues playing and teasing, and neither cared at all about the liquid dribbling out of the corners of their mouths to trail down to their chins and drip slowly onto their chests.

Loki felt one of Evans' hands disappear from around his waist, and he caught the wandering fingers with his own before they could cup him where he hung heavy between his legs, laughing quietly into lips that grinned against his. He pulled back just enough to bring the wayward hand up between them and pressed a kiss to each of the knuckles before nuzzling the palm.

“Loki.”

“Mm?” was all the acknowledgment Loki could bring himself to give at that moment.

And Evans asked, “How long can I keep you, little one?”

Loki immediately scowled. “Can we dispense with that particular pet name?”

Evans chuckled and nipped lightly at his chin. “Should I call you, love?”

And Loki froze momentarily, thinking briefly of how marvelous it would be to have a man of such power loyal to him through _love_ of all things. _If I can make him love me so…_ he thought, crafting plan after plan, but he only said, “Speaking thereof, what _is_ your name?”

Evans shook his head through his snickers before pressing his nose to the hollow behind Loki's jaw. “You _forgot_?” he asked jokingly. “It's Evans, little one. Jim Evans.” This earned him a pinched nipple courtesy of Loki, but his hiss of pain turned into yet more snickers, and he said, “And you still haven't answered my first question.”

Loki declined to acknowledge the possibility that he might be pouting and he also declined to answer Evans' question until he had a satisfactory answer to his own. “Your first name _is not_ Jim and your last name _is not_ Evans. I refuse to call you anything so… _plebeian_ ,” he sneered, before asking, “What is your _real_ name?” Then he quickly specified, “Tell me what your parents named you,” because Loki knew that if he himself could accumulate so many names in the span of a single millennium, then the man before him surely had more.

But then not-Evans' snickers became so pronounced, his shoulders quaked uncontrollably.

Loki let the man's hand fall from his face and sat back on not-Evans' thighs so he could survey him with a suspicious glare. “What,” he demanded.

“My parents named me Harry James Potter.”

### Tony

And back in the projection room on SHIELD's helicarrier, Tony thought that seeing Loki face-palm was probably one of the funniest things he'd ever seen in the history of ever.

Or, in the last 24 hours, at least.

### Loki

“Then what name have you chosen for yourself?” Loki tried again.

“None,” answered not-Evans with a smile and laughing eyes.

Loki glared, but not-Evans continued before he could respond.

“I need no name, little one,” he said. “Others, however, need to have a name for me. Feel free to choose one that you find fitting.”

The point was made loud and clear to Loki: After all, the only beings of power with no need or use for names (or even for the concept of “I” ofttimes) were the forces of nature themselves. It wasn't quite a warning, though most certainly not a threat. No, it was more a statement of fact that Loki's future efforts to woo and enthrall the other would ultimately be fruitless, but he was more than welcome to try if he felt it would be an entertaining pastime.

Loki merely smirked at the other man. _Challenge accepted._

The trickster then proceeded to examine the man before him intently, trying to put to name the piece of nature not-Evans most closely represented, but there were so many that came to mind, all possible but none quite right, that Loki eventually stopped trying to go that route (especially when he could get no nearer than electromagnetism— _polarizing, electrifying!_ —for there were no names to Loki's liking which derived from that).

 _No_ , he thought. _Best to keep these sorts of things simple._

And so the man was named:

“Aterre.”

And Aterre's nose crinkled and he laughed. “ _French_?” he cried, disbelieving. “Is that supposed to be an insult to me or to them?”

Loki sniffed. “They _should_ take it as a compliment,” he said and smiled as Aterre laughed anew.

There was something warm growing inside him, something like fire, something like— And Loki realized that this game just might be the most foolish thing he had ever engaged in, because the chance of him falling into Aterre's thrall instead was worryingly high, but he wanted _so strongly_ to melt this beautiful creature down, to have him as naught but clay in his hands.

He _wanted_.

It would be the greatest risk he ever took; that possibility of losing not just his freedom but his very self along the way was… _daunting_ , to say the least.

But he wanted.

So he played.

## End Chapter I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The freak's backstory is posted to my account on Fanfiction, under the name Hawa DL, in case you were interested. I'll get around to cross posting it too eventually.
> 
> Updates will be wildly unpredictable, rare, and sporadic. Sorry, not sorry.
> 
> Live long and prosper and all that jazz.


End file.
